


Mead in Valhalla

by daphnerunning, Galiko



Series: Oddballs in Love [3]
Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 13:33:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6958666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galiko/pseuds/Galiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a Live, Mika disappears without a word, seemingly terrified. Finding him raises more questions than answers (but Shu is up to the task of asking).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mead in Valhalla

**Author's Note:**

> Follows "Galatea" but can be read on its own. You just need to know that Mika and Shu are a couple, and this takes place the spring of their second/third year, almost a year after Valkyrie's destruction.

Valkyrie performs another Live. The lights swell, the people applaud, the audio plays until the end with no pauses, and Shu catches the eye of one Nazuna Nito in the audience at the end. Nito smiles, hands clapping together, eyes lit up at the dancing, the singing, the way he drags himself through the motions as if he’s more than a mere shadow of his former self.

It’s better than the Live against Ra*bits, at least. He and Mika are more in-step, their voices meld better, and he clasps Mika’s hand at the end, Nito’s smile banished by the beaming pleasure on Mika’s face as the crowd cheers.

_Maybe there is still time before I graduate to make them remember me. Maybe there’s time to make Valkyrie something that lasts, remembered throughout history._

And it’s all because Mika had grabbed his hand, and hadn’t let go. So Shu grabs his hand, tugging him backstage after the crowd starts to depart, and tries to return the favor. Mika had enjoyed that whole _kabedon_ thing, hadn’t he? So Shu, body still alive and sparkling after the Live, guides Mika up against the wall and lifts his hand to slap it gently on the wall (neither of them like loud noises).

With his nerves riled a dozen times over from the stage, Mika doesn’t think so much as he _reacts_. 

Shu is the last person Mika expects to raise a hand to him. There’s a _lot_  of people that would think he’s crazy for thinking that, but it’s _Shu_ , who _says_  mean stuff sometimes, but never _does_  anything but gentle things, _nice_  things, and that’s why it’s such a shock that Mika has no response but to flinch and bolt away, nearly crashing into a member of the backstage crew, stumbling back over an extension cord and only righting himself enough to dart around a corner.

Then his mind spirals, like it’s prone to do, no matter how much he’s been working on it, no matter how he begs it not to at times. _I did something wrong, but what? I’ve been working so hard, Oshi-san held my hand and everything, he looked so happy, so happy with me_ —

Muttering apologies to anyone that will listen (no one pays him any mind), Mika takes off down the narrow hallway backstage, tears stinging his eyes. _This is irrational~_  his mind sings to him, but there’s not much he can do about listening to it _now_. 

Itsuki Shu is many things, but not, he hopes, stupid. He can be nearsighted, he can be cruel, and he can be narcissistic to the point of self-indulgence, but he doesn’t think he’s foolish enough to have misjudged Mika _this_ far. He’d raised his hand, intending to return the favor...

And Mika had run. As if Shu were going to _hit_ him.

After ten minutes of fruitless searching around the back of the Live house (and a surprising five minutes of signing autographs for the first time in a year), Shu heads home. At least Mika knows where that is, and will head back sooner or later. Now Shu won’t worry about it any more.

Two hours later, he’s in a panic. Mademoiselle suggests calling the school, which he makes her do for him, because honestly, Mika is so much better than he is on the phone where he doesn’t need to worry about people staring at him. When the call doesn’t pan out, he spends the next hour staring at the phone before calling the police, who promptly ignore him after they learn that Mika is a sixteen-year-old boy whose biggest crime is being out past eight pm. 

_But he usually isn’t_ , Shu tries to tell them, but they call him a worried granny and hang up on him. Carefully, he gathers Mademoiselle under one arm, calls Kurou, and heads out to search the surrounding streets.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, this is stupid._ I’m _stupid._

There’s a park within walking distance of Shu’s house that they pass through almost every day whenever they head to the market, or to the opposite side of the train station. At night, it’s far drearier, and the swings squeak a _lot_  when Mika huddles up on one of them, his legs dragging the ground. 

His clothes from the Live are a neatly folded bundle in a bag next to him, and the long hems of his sweats feel itchy and cheap in comparison. Shu always makes him such nice things, does such nice things, lets him still be in Valkyrie after all of this…and what does he do? _Run away, like a goddamn fool._

For the umpteenth time, he takes his phone out, staring down at it, contemplating texting Arashi, or even trying to get ahold of Shu and warn him that he’ll be late—but it’s been hours now, and he hasn’t done either of those things. Mika groans, and flops backwards, holding onto the swing with one hand. _Stupid, why am I so stupid?_  Now it’s been so late that if he comes home, it’s a _thing_. No matter what, Shu is gonna be upset, and for good reason. 

Footsteps make Mika jerk upright again, because it’s late, and no one except perverts and idiots like him are out late at night—except that’s not true, because it’s _Shu._  His flight instinct kicks obnoxiously into overdrive, but he freezes in place all the same, limply swinging, staring down at his feet. Maybe if he does a good job explaining things, Shu won’t be mad.  

“Mika!”

“Kagehira-kun!”

“Mika! Kagehira Mika!”

“Kagehira-kun, if you can hear us, don’t hiiiide!”

It’s a good thing Kiryuu has a big booming voice, because Shu’s is hoarse and verging on hysterical by the time they make their next pass through the park. “He’s not here, Kiryuu! He’s probably dead on the train tracks somewhere, or on a train back to Kansai, he’s _never_ coming back!”

“Whoa, whoa, Itsuki, slow down, all right? We’re gonna find him. I bet he’s just lookin’ out for some kinda present for you for the Live, yanno?”

“Don’t be stupid, Kiryuu! He _hates_ me, he’s punishing me by dying--or he’s left me, and what if he’s sick or hurt or--”

“Hey, hey, don’t--dammit. Itsuki? Itsuki, come on, stand up, don’t make me carry ya the whole way...” Kurou sighs, then heaves Shu’s body up into his arms, turning back towards his childhood home.

“…I…I’m right here…” 

They don’t hear him, the first time. That’s because his voice sounds strange even to him, too-soft and kinda scratchy, and Mika swallows, clearing his throat as he forces himself to sit up from his swing on wobbly legs. “Here,” he tries again, warily waving a hand. If it had just been Shu, that would have been easier, but it’s Kurou, too, and Kurou-senpai can be a little…scary, sometimes. “S-sorry, I meant t’ call a few hours ago, but I forgot, an’ I didn’t wanna make you worry but the longer I waited the more I knew you’d worry so by the time I thought about it it was too late so I figured that would make it _worse_ …” Now he’s babbling. Great, that’s just what he wants to do. Flushing hot and embarrassed, he stoops down, grabbing his bag of clothes.

Kurou heaves a sigh of relief at the sight of that messy head of hair. “Damn, you gave him a hell of a fright, huh? Itsuki. Oi, Itsuki, Kagehira’s here.” 

Shu’s head lolls still, and Kurou hefts him up a bit into a princess carry. “If I bring him to his house, can ya start some tea or somethin’ before you head back to your place? I’d stay, but I’m s’posed to be watching my little sister tonight.”

Mika’s mouth flaps a few times before he just settles on nodding, somewhat frantically. “I-I can take care of him,” he whispers, that terrible, sinking feeling settling even more firmly into his gut. _I made Shu freak out like this, it’s my fault._ Compulsively, he rakes his fingers through his hair, covering one eye before he hurries forward in the direction of Shu’s house. “Sorry….sorry for makin’ you come out like this, senpai.”

Kurou grins. “Nah, I’m glad to do it. Hell, I’m glad t’be able to do somethin’ for him. He doesn’t ask for my help enough, yanno? And I swore I’d protect him when we were kids, but he’s so damn proud. You gotta call your mom, tell her you’ll be late?”

“She doesn’t care.” _Shu doesn’t tell his friends we’re livin’ together?_  In that case, it’s not worth explaining. The sinking feeling turns to something more dull and achy, and Mika’s head hurts. “W…was he really upset that I ran off?” _Because I left him all alone to deal with all the crowds, like a total ass._

“Ah, yeah.” No use pulling punches, Kurou always thinks. “He thought he did somethin’ to scare ya. Hey, but it worked out okay, right? And it’s good for me, we barely talk anymore but I figure ya must be real important to him if he went knockin’ on my door. Heh, he probably just wanted someone to keep him safe after dark, he knows I’d never let nothin’ happen to him.”

_And I’m the reason he’s runnin’ around in the middle of the night._ Mika dimly nods, trying not to let that horrible feeling take over more and more by the minute, but it’s tough, when Shu is passed out in the arms of a friend way more capable of taking care of him than he’d ever be. _Why was I so sure I could do this just yesterday?_

It’s a relief that Shu’s house is so close, because Mika isn’t sure how much more of this he can take. He awkwardly fishes out his key, hoping Kurou doesn’t ask any questions about that, and opens the door. “If y’can just sit him in his bed or somethin’, I can take it from there,” he quietly says. “Sorry ‘bout causin’ so much trouble.”

Kurou takes a cursory look around when he carries Shu inside, then dumps him unceremoniously on the bed. “Heh. He must really like ya, kid.” He gestures to some of the creepy lopsided plushies and collectibles in the corner. “I don’t think anyone’s changed a damn thing about this place in a hundred years, but he lets you keep your stuff in his...”

A thought occurs to him, and Kurou straightens up, face changing as he puts his hands in his pockets. “Oh. Aha, I get it. You two a thing, huh?” He reaches out to clap Mika on the shoulder, then remembers what Shu had said about Mika running away earlier, and shoves that hand back in his pocket. 

“I’m—he’s—“ It’s not like he’s ashamed, not at _all_ , but Shu’s upset with him, this is _Shu’s_  friend, not really his, even if they’re in the same club (Kurou prefers sewing in the dojo, everyone knows that!), and it’s just…a bad situation, all around, and Mika feels his face turning red all over again, which is worse still when he eyeballs Kurou’s hand, already flinching before he pulls it back. _I hate this,_ he miserably thinks. _Why does this have to be a thing now?_  “T-thanks for carryin’ him home, senpai,” he squeaks out instead, frantically moving to busy himself with hanging up his bagged costume before it gets wrinkled and Shu yells at him about one more thing. “I’ll—I’ll make sure he calls you later or somethin’, to let you know how he’s doin’…” 

“Don’t bother, he won’t,” Kurou grumbles, tugging his jacket into place. “That guy’s always been the same. If he’s ever too much to handle, just lemme know, I’m the house with the playground out back, three doors up.” He gives Mika a little grin that probably looks like a grimace. “Sorry for scarin’ you. I’m not a bad guy, I swear. Ah, I gotta get home, good luck!

The sound of the shutting door jolts Shu out of his faint, eyelashes fluttering. “Mika,” he murmurs, before he’s really awake.

Mika feels like he’s about to jump out of his skin. It’s the _worst_  feeling, one that he hasn’t felt in months, and he groans into his costume for a second, nearly banging his head against the wall in frustration. “S-sorry, sorry, I’m here,” he mumbles, hanging everything up and darting quickly out of the room to the water kettle to flip it on. He slinks his way back to the bedroom, hovering for a moment before warily settling down onto the edge of the bed, and gently trying to dislodge Mademoiselle from Shu’s arms. The least he can do is put her up all nice and neat. “I’m makin’ tea, whenever you want it…” 

Shu makes a distressed noise, fingers fumbling after the doll. “N-no--you can’t, if you go I’ll _need_ her--”

“I’m not _goin’_ , I’m—“ Mika bites his lip, and stops his attempts to pull the doll away, holding his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. I…yeah. I’m dumb, shouldn’t’ve run off like that,” he mumbles, sliding off the bed to plop down onto the floor, huddling with his back to the bed. It’s a lot easier to sit like this and not look at Shu, actually. “Lemme know when you and Mado-nee want tea.”

Shu struggles up to a seated position, staring at Mika as if he’ll disappear if he looks away. “I frightened you,” he says, fiddling with the hem of Mademoiselle’s dress. She wants to speak for him, but this is something he needs to do himself. “I...” _Just say it! It’s so easy, it’s one word!_

“I...would appreciate you being considerate enough to inform me of how in the future I can avoid...” 

_One word!_

Shu grits his teeth around a headache, and says instead, “I-I...apologize.”

Mika bites his lip harder, his shoulders tense. “…but y’didn’t do anythin’ wrong,” he mumbles, staring down at the ground as hard as he can. “I… _I_  must’ve really messed up, huh? I promise I’ll—“

The kettle starts whistling—Shu just won’t buy an electric one, so it’s _noisy_ —and Mika bolts up at the sound, running out of the room and to the kitchen as a quick, much-needed escape from the conversation.

Shu tests his physical state and finds it satisfactory, so he stands and strips down to his nightshirt, carefully folding the costume from the Live before undressing Mademoiselle as well, putting on her charming little nightgown. Then he pads out to the kitchen, hanging back uncertainly at the door. If he gets close, Mika might spook again. Not entirely knowing what to do, he knocks quietly on the open doorframe to announce his presence in a hopefully nonthreatening way.

Mika jumps, then heaves a long, weary sigh at himself, hanging his head. _This is the worst. The worst!_  By this point, it’s pretty darn obvious that he’s the one _entirely_  to blame here, that he misconstrued something, somehow, and he’s an idiot and made things so much worse than they had to be…but how to fix it? He’s supposed to be the one decent at problem-solving, where did that go? Mika’s hands shake minutely when he finishes pouring the hot water, and he doesn’t glance up. “Sorry,” he defeatedly says again. “I’m not feelin’ too hot. Your tea’s ready, though.” 

Shu takes the tea, sitting at the counter and wrapping his hands around the cup’s warmth. “I...” He tries to speak, frowns, and shakes his head. No, he must. “I believed that in training you without tolerance for failure, you would understand my affections. But...I never asked you anything about yourself. Kiryuu was very stern with me when I confessed that to him, I fear.”

Mika stares down into his own cup of tea, hunching forward over it. “You say that like y’did somethin’ wrong,” he mumbles. “I’m the one that freaked out for no reason. I jus’…I got too hyped up from the Live, and it bled over, I guess…and I…I was just stupid. I’m really sorry, Oshi-san.” That’s not even entirely untrue. He’s felt jittery and over-stimulated for weeks, and performing so much recently, _practicing_  so much recently…out of nowhere, his eyes tear up, and he chokes down a mouthful of hot tea to make _that_  particular, _really_  dumb reaction stop. 

Shu starts to move towards him, then restrains himself, clutching the teacup more tightly. Sometimes, he really wishes he _were_ stupid. No, that’s low and vulgar, and not his cross to bear. His father had always impressed upon him that people of their rank are simply different from the common masses--not for reasons so low as money, but because of prestige. From those to whom much is given much is required--which is one of many reasons he’s always given so much of himself to everything he loves. 

Mika deserves no less, does he?

“I won’t hit you, Mika,” he says quietly. “I despise those that would hit someone weaker than themselves--I don’t know if you’re thinking of someone else, or if you think I’d do that, but...I won’t. Ever.”

“I k-know that.” Mika’s breath hiccups on a sob before he can stop it, and he shoves a hand over his face, huffing in frustration into it. “God, sorry, I’m s-so stupid, I’m j-jus’ gonna do this for a second, sorry,” he frantically mumbles, waving a hand in desperation to ward off any other tears. It doesn’t work, it never does. “I got f-freaked out—I thought I did…did somethin’ really dumb in the Live, I dunno, but I know it had to be _really_  bad, ‘cuz you’ve never…” He sucks in a sharp breath. “ _Ever_  done anythin’ like that, and I know you wouldn’t, but once I start thinkin’ about it, I can’t stop, so I jus’…left.” 

Mika swallows, scuffing at the floor with his bare toes. “My dad used to be a lot easier to deal with, if I jus’ left for a few hours,” he quietly adds, sniffling into his hand. “So I started thinkin’ about that, and my mom down south, and my aunt, and my grandma, and how _they_  never got in trouble with him…I figure if I had been a girl, it would’ve been different, maybe? And maybe y’wouldn’t get mad at me if I was a girl, either, which I know is stupid, and don’t make sense, but sometimes my mind doesn’t _stop_ …” he trails off, gulping down more hot tea before he can keep babbling nonsense.

The only non-offensive thing Shu can think of doing is pouring more tea, so he does that, filling the kettle again after he’s done and setting it on the stove. His toes are chilly in his house slippers, and he settles down at the counter again, curling around his tea. “I prefer you exactly as you are,” he says slowly, wrestling with the multiple feelings that he’s not emotionally equipped for this--but if he doesn’t do, doesn’t say something, it’s quite apparent that no one will. “I--I’m certain your friend Narukami would be better at this, if you want to leave me behind--I was merely trying to return your favor from before, of the kabedon--foolish of me, I just--” Now _he’s_ the one rambling, hands fluttering in agitation.

Mika groans, slumping down further and letting his head knock down against the counter. “I’m the stupidest. Now that y’say that…duh.” He wipes a hand down his face, rubbing his eyes down into it once he’s done that. “‘m sorry. Really sorry. I’m _really_  sorry, Oshi-san.” 

“Don’t apologize. I mean, you caused me quite a fright! You should take responsibility, but...” Shu’s stomach turns, bitter, sour bile rising in the back of his throat. “I don’t know that I should be expected to forgive you for showing me such a solemn expression, you know! I’ve come to rely on that smiling face of yours to lift my spirits.”

As unprompted as can be, Mika bursts into tears again. Hurriedly, he shoves his face down into the steam of his teacup and turns partially away, hoping Shu doesn’t notice. “I-I’ll try,” he whispers. “I’ve been tryin’. I’ve _got_  this, Oshi-san, I p-promise. Sorry for bein’ so annoyin’.”

Shu whips a ruffled handkerchief out of his pocket, passing it over without looking too hard at Mika, knowing how eyes tend to affect him. “S-stop it, if you cry then _I’ll_ c-cry,” he sniffs, snatching the handkerchief back, then passing it over again and wiping his eyes on his sleeve. 

“Don’t cry, I’m jus’ cryin’ ‘cuz I’m stupid,” Mika bemoans, stuffing the handkerchief directly into his eyes, as if that’ll help. “T-this sucks. I’m sorry I’m bein’ like this, Oshi-san, I’m really sorry…”

Shu scoots closer, resting his head on Mika’s shoulder, not attempting to stifle his sniffling. “It’s, it’s fine. We’re grown men, we’re allowed to have feelings. Ah, if you’d stuck around, I’m certain Kiryuu would have told you many stories about me crying as a little boy, when the other children were cruel to me or my dolls. Doubtless that’s...not exactly the same as what you endured.”

Unable to help himself anymore, Mika turns, shoving his face down into Shu’s neck and abandoning his cup of tea to cling to him. “Don’t wanna talk about it,” he sniffs, hating how he sounds like a child right then, but it should get the point across. “N…normally I’m good, an’ I ain’t gonna sit around thinkin’ about it…b-but these past couple of weeks…” He exhales a shaky breath. “C…can we go lay in the bed together? I gotta tell you a thing.” _But I really need to be able to hide under a blanket if you get mad or weird about it._  It’s hard to imagine Shu being either of those things, but logic isn’t his strong suit right now. 

Shu stands, brushing his face clean, then places his cup in the sink, doing the same with Mika’s. “Yes, yes, good. Ah, this is awful, I hate showing weakness in front of you. I want you...of anyone, I want at least you...” _To believe I’m worth something. To believe I’m someone worth admiring._

He shakes his head, and quells the impulse to tug at Mika’s sleeve. For the first time in weeks, he isn’t certain whether the touch would be welcomed. “Come along, then.”

Mika shakes his head, his hair limply falling in front of his face as he latches onto the back of Shu’s nightshirt. “I think you’re the coolest,” he mumbles, padding after him on the way to the bedroom. “No one else puts up with me when I’m dumb like this.” 

“Don’t be absurd, you’re never more or less of a burden,” Shu mutters, folding his long legs under the blankets, tugging them back to let Mika inside. He tugs on the golden chain on the lamp by his bed, leaving them in the soft rosy glow of his nightlight. “You are what you are, and that’s exactly the person I called over into Valkyrie. Now, what’s troubling you?” _How about that, Tenshouin? I’m a Leader_ , he thinks, on the verge of smug under all his concern.

Slithering his way down underneath the blankets, Mika settles down, trying not to let his jittery shivers keep getting the better of him. “…didn’t wanna say anything, ‘cuz I thought I could…could deal with it,” he murmurs, his eyes lidding. “But I guess I still suck.” Fixating on the little patch of skin above Shu’s nightshirt, right around his collarbones, helps him focus somewhat. “My…um…I’ve been takin’ medicine since I was, like, 10, a-and my parents don’t wanna pay for it anymore. So they let my prescription expire, last month.” The nerves are starting to set in— _he’s going to think I’m a freak, that I’m fucked up and weird!_ —so Mika starts talking faster, before he can back out of explaining. “It’s, it’s for me being like…this. Y’know, being really anxious ’n stuff? ’s not all covered by insurance, s-so they were payin’ the difference, but then they found out I was takin’ part time jobs so they said I should just pay for it but I gotta help pay for Valkyrie’s stuff and I thought I’d be fine, anyway! A-and I was fine, for a couple of weeks, but then this Live and all the practice—“ 

He gulps, slinking down further underneath the blankets, and chances a glance up at Shu’s face, nervous and wide-eyed. “I dunno what to do,” Mika whispers. “I’m the worst, I know, I jus’…please don’t tell anyone, the teachers a-already know. I had to tell them. But everyone else’ll just think I’m weirder.”

Oh.

That makes sense. 

Shu smoothes the blankets down, then very carefully, very deliberately, tucks an arm around Mika to pull him in close. “I have a family doctor,” he says quietly. The smell of medicine comes back to him strongly sometimes, though he likes to ignore it as long as he can. “Be a good boy, don’t look at me while I’m talking. Mother used to take me to him when I started having my fainting spells.” 

They’d had words for it, plenty of ideas--anorexia nervosa complicated by obsessive compulsive personality disorder, anxiety disorders, histrionic personality disorder, narcissistic personality disorder, severe agoraphobia with panic disorder--but his parents had dismissed all the theories, insisting that he was just high-strung and creative. They are Japanese; Japanese men do not take pills to make emotions more palatable. “But for the men in my family, ah, it is apparently more acceptable to leave me alone with my dolls and my swooning spells than to seek medical attention. I’ll...you can call him tomorrow, doubtless he’ll see you if he knows it’s a favor for my family.”

“R…really?” Mika hopes he doesn’t sound too hopeful, too relieved, but it’s impossible when Shu is being so _nice_ , so _good_  about this, just like Mika had daydreamed he would be, like the first time he’d seen how nervous Shu was in front of crowds— _worse than I am, even when I’m like this._ He sniffles, huddling closer, burying his face down into Shu’s chest. “I…if that’s…if that’s really okay, I’ll call tomorrow. But…but I really don’t want my part time jobs to have to go towards stuff like that, I’m workin’ to make Valkyrie awesome—“ He gnaws on his lower lip, his fingers clutching at the front of Shu’s shirt. “As long as I can still perform, it’s probably fine…”

Shu sighs, tugging the blanket up over both of their heads, enclosing them in the comfortable darkness. He’d done this so many times, just him and his dolls, when every noise in the night made him think that there was someone lurking in the big empty creaking house with him. “Someone has to be able to walk down the street without passing out,” he whispers. “Ah, let me know if you hate this, it always made me feel more comfortable when I was young.”

“…I wanted t’tell you in bed in case y’got upset, so I could hide under the covers,” Mika admits sheepishly, burrowing himself closer to Shu with a little, hitching sigh. “I’ll get another job,” he settles upon firmly. “Maybe I can interview better if I’m on my meds again.” Not that it’s ever really helped before, but maybe, this time… “I know I shoulda told you awhile ago…sorry for..for causin’ problems ’n stuff.” 

“Quite right, you should tell me things.” Shu nuzzles into Mika’s messy hair, inhaling deeply--there’s a bit of leftover sweat from the Live and his subsequent flight, but it’s not as unpleasant as he’d expected it to be. “But it isn’t as if I don’t understand the desire to avoid talking about unpleasant things. Ah, Mika, Mika, lovely Mika...you don’t need another job, Valkyrie is doing Lives again, aren’t we? And I have my family’s account for medical things. They won’t question a sum to Dr. Ohira.”

“But…but Valkyrie shouldn’t be payin’ for _me_ , and you shouldn’t, either…” Mika protests, even as he winds his arms around Shu’s waist, clinging to him more tightly. Being able to hold onto a warm body is far more soothing than he expected it to be, and because it’s Shu, gentle, understanding Shu…Mika sniffs, burying his face back into Shu’s chest before he can get his actual neck snotty and gross. “I mean, I guess I shouldn’t argue much. I just feel bad. It sucks bein’ like this, don’t it.”

“Mika...” Shu huffs, on the verge of being entirely sentimental, and then there’ll be no one to control or direct anything, with them both useless and crying. He’s the older one--it’s his duty to pull himself together. “Do be sensible. Your campus jobs are in exchange for Yumenosaki currency, are they not? We’ll use Valkyrie funds for Valkyrie, and my parents’ funds for my paramour’s medical care, just as it should be.” In all fairness, he isn't entirely certain his parents  _have_ a medical account for him any longer, but he can always take commissions from the local tailor's shop again. If he does it at night, Mika will never have to know.

Having Mika curled up against him like this makes him feel rather big and strong and cool, and the relief of having found him safe and sound is a balm to the nerves. “You’re rather like my support animal, aren’t you? I can almost feel my blood pressure regulating when we’re like this.”

Mika huffs out a ragged, wet laugh into Shu’s chest, relief finally, mercifully getting the better of him. “You’re so cool,” he sighs, squeezing Shu as he nuzzles against him. “Even when I’m the worst, you’re the best. I don’t think I’m bein’ a good support _anything_  right now, but I really like it when you call me ‘paramour.’ It makes me sound fancy.” 

Shu’s hands come up to pet at Mika’s hair, kissing, nuzzling at the top of his head. It sounds attractive, he’ll admit, to be able to take a pill and be able to walk down the street, to interact with strangers without wanting to die. Instead, he takes comfort in being the one to give it, for once, the way he only can in the dark. “Don’t be satisfied with something so low. I’d prefer to call you _inamorato_ , or _bien-aimé_. Ah, if we’re ever able, I’ll take you to Paris someday. Not that you’ll appreciate it properly.”

“I’d appreciate the food,” Mika murmurs, his eyes lidding beneath all of Shu’s cuddling, at the easy affection that no one else gets to see. _Mine, mine_ , he dimly thinks, curling his fingers into the back of Shu’s shirt. “And I’d get to hear you talk French a lot, maybe. I love listenin’ to you, it sounds so pretty.” 

“My French has suffered greatly since leaving middle school,” Shu mutters grumpily. “Yumenosaki may be stellar at training idols, but my academics have suffered, I admit. Ah, lay back, I think I still remember some Rimbaud.”

He clears his throat, stroking down Mika’s back, and starts to recite. 

 

_“C’est un trou de verdure, où chante une rivière_

_Accrochant follement aux herbes des haillons_

_D’argent; où le soleil, de la montagne fière,_

_Luit: c’est un petit val qui mousse de rayons.”_

“So pretty.” Mika exhales a long, even breath, his eyes shut as he keeps his head twisted enough to press his ear to Shu’s chest. “And rumbly, like this. Shu,” he mumbles, pawing absently at his back. “I think y’have the prettiest voice in the whole school. You can kabedon me later, when I’m not weird.” 

“Don’t be overly-generous, my accent is dreadful. Ah, I suppose my cadence is perfect, at least. Perhaps your ear for timing is improving.

Shu looks down, his mouth quirking up at the side. “You like the rumbling? Ah, I suppose my voice has gotten rather deep in recent years. Until your medication kicks back in, just tell me what you’re comfortable with, I’ll listen.”

“ _Everything’s_  good, I jus’ got spooked,” Mika complains, keeping his ear firmly fastened to Shu’s chest now. “Like a dumb horse. Ugh. Keep talkin’, did you sign autographs after I left?” 

Shu blinks. “How did you know about that? Mm, yes, there was a small group of women that flocked to me after the show. They were quite disappointed that my lovely assistant wasn’t there, of course, but they did praise me most effusively.” He frowns for a moment, then says with dawning realization, “I wasn’t even nervous about it, really. I was too concerned with finding you. I didn’t even bring Mademoiselle. How odd of me. Ah, it was like the old days--you didn’t get much of that time, the popular Lives where everyone wanted an autograph. You will. Don’t worry, I’ll sign everything, you can hide behind me or stand beside me as you prefer.”

“My autograph is ugly, anyway. Yours is cool, so of course they all want it…” Shu’s voice really _is_  soothing like this, and Mika wonders if this is some weird form of therapy. Whatever the case, it’s working, and he could have _more_  of this in his life. “Mm. Shu. I didn’t get to tell you, but I really liked when you held my hand ’n stuff on stage.” 

“You’re good enough to be my partner now. It’s only natural that I would acknowledge you that way.” _What are you going to do when I graduate in a few weeks, Mika? Will you recruit new members and make Valkyrie rise to the top again? Join another unit? Go solo, for all the problems there?_

But now isn’t the time, since he’s trying to soothe Mika as much as possible. “You want me to sing? Can you sleep?”

Tears prick at Mika’s eyes again, though at least it’s for a different reason other than panic or impending doom. _You’re good enough to be my partner now._  That’s probably gonna resound over and over and over again in his head for awhile, and he doesn’t want it to stop any time soon. “I love it when you sing,” he murmurs. “Think we could get away with kissin’ on stage? Ah, forget I asked, that’s a bad idea.” 

“Don’t be silly, you can get away with anything as a top idol.” Not like he’s considered the idea before. Shu strokes a hand down, then toys with the hem of Mika’s shirt. “I’ll put you in something lovely--it’ll be dark and edgy, introspective--and they’ll be so enamored with my masterful script they won’t dare to question it. That’s how it always used to be, isn’t it? Would you wear a dress onstage if it meant something like that?”

“Yeah.” He probably says that too quickly, but oh well. The idea makes Mika a little flustered, and his pulse starts thudding faster again, but shoving his face back down into Shu’s chest helps with that. “Sounds like a lot of fun, actually,” he admits. “Ahh…this is really silly, but I dunno if I ever told you…it was my dream for you t’make me a dress, and you already…yeah. Wearin’ one on stage with you would be kinda surreal. I might faint after, heh.” 

“Don’t you start fainting, too. I’ve quite had my fill of doing it myself, though at least if you did it I could carry you home without too much trouble. The idea of the Valkyrie costumes as a dress, however--it has merit. I’ve already done it on a small scale for Mademoiselle. Yours would be better, of course. More intricate--I love designing for your body, did I ever tell you that?” 

“Don’t tell me you’ll carry me, then I’m gonna want to faint,” Mika mutters, even as his face heats up. He rubs it against Shu’s chest, as if that’ll make some of the red go away. “Y’never told me that before. I thought I’d be hard to design for, ‘specially after I put on weight.”

“Mm, no, you’re easy to design for. I don’t even know for certain why, except the obvious.” Shu brushes his fingertips against Mika’s cheek, slightly inaccurate in the dark. “But even with great beauty like yours, male bodies are usually somewhat difficult for me, and yours is...I don’t know. It works with me. Plus your measurements are in increments of ten centimeters, and I do like that.”

Mika butts up against Shu’s hand, pressing the heat of his cheek against his fingers and palm. “Maybe you’re jus’ the best,” he murmurs. “No one sews like you do. I never thought I’d get to wear stuff like what you make. Shu, are you gonna keep doin’ that kinda stuff after you graduate? Or start another group, or…” 

Anxiety spikes at that question, Shu’s heart rate thudding suddenly swift in his chest, and he swallows. “I’m not entirely certain yet. You’re probably just worried you’ll need to leave here, or make your own costumes, but you don’t need to worry about that, you know.”

“Mmn.” Mika shifts, fiddling with Shu’s shirt and daring a peek up through his bangs at Shu’s face, even if it’s so dark that he can barely see him. “More than that, I was wonderin’ if I could get away with droppin’ out and doin’ whatever you were doin’,” he admits with a self-depreciating laugh. “I can’t lead a unit like you, or do the stuff you do…and I don’t wanna go solo…I just wanna stay with you.” 

“Don’t say things like that,” Shu says irritably, tears pricking his eyes again. No, that’s no good, he has to be softer while Mika’s in such a state, or he’ll run off again, and Shu isn’t in a mental state to handle that. “If you say things like that, I’ll have to agree, and say things about how no other group is allowed to have you, and I’m trying to be better than that.”

“…What if I want you to say stuff like that about me?” Mika softly asks. He fidgets again, poking at Shu’s chest. “You can be possessive. _I’m_  possessive.”

Shu’s hand moves, grabbing Mika’s, folding the fingers down. His heart hurts with each beat, even as he wants to cling forever, to tie delicate strings to those elegant fingers and twitch them in perfect time. “Mika...it can’t have escaped your notice that I am not...possessed of all of my faculties. Ah, it doesn’t do anyone any good to hide such things, does it? But you seem attached to me, even if I bring you nothing but trouble. I don’t feel I have the right to own your life. No, more, I don’t want to, I want you to be happy. You were never my doll, were you? You’ve always been the most human member of Valkyrie.”

“Shu,” Mika interrupts, lifting his other hand and planting it squarely over Shu’s mouth. He misses, a little, because it’s dark, but it’s close enough to get his point across. “We’re _both_  crazy,” he bluntly points out. “I jus’ ran across the city and hid in a park for the entire night because I thought you were gonna hit me. Th’ only thing I’m better at than you is talkin’ to cashiers and makin’ phone calls and walkin’ around busy places, and that’s only when I’m takin’ medicine, which, fine, okay.” He huffs, squeezing Shu’s hand. “You don’t own me, but that don’t mean I can’t _give_  myself to you. ’s different.”

_“H-honestly!”_ Shu thrashes, head lashing to the side in a surge of sudden emotion, scrubbing at his face. “If you insist on making me cry all the time, I’ll force you to take responsibility!” He should just call Kiryuu; he’d been the one to beat the bullies up back then, though he doesn’t want Mika beaten or even threatened. 

“I’ll take responsibility however you want! Shuuuu,” Mika whines, clinging back to his waist, snuggling back up against him firmly. “Don’t make me leave, okay? I wanna stay Valkyrie with you forever, but I know you won’t get held back a year, so I’m just gonna have to drop out and keep performin’ with you that way, that’s all there is to it.” 

Shu lets a distressed noise burble out of the back of his throat. Distraught (delighted), he buries his face in Mika’s hair, resisting the urge to flutter his hands about or grab for Mademoiselle. “Hmph, what am I supposed to do with you? It’s as if I’ll be to blame if Valkyrie isn’t successful again by the time I graduate--you’re putting all of this on me, and now I have to plan a Live again so soon after this victory! Don’t smile at me, it’s as if you’re enjoying my suffering! This is going to be such a bother, you dropping out, both of us being an idol group, touring and appearing in concerts and the like.”

“Ahhh, I know, I know, it’s a lot,” Mika gleefully agrees, snuggling up enough to sling a leg over Shu’s hip and get at least three limbs effectively around him. “But I can help y’know! Maybe I’ll keep gettin’ better at sewing, or at least at helpin’ y’with ideas, an’ I _promise_  I’ll keep gettin’ better at singin’ and dancin’, I’ve got this, really!”

“You could hardly get worse,” Shu grumbles, but leans down, seizing the opportunity to nip at Mika’s neck, recalling how he’d enjoyed that in the past even if it made him cringe to see that he’d left a mark. “Or I’d be a terrible leader, wouldn’t I? Ah, you’re putting me in quite a mood, is that your intention with all of this squirming?”

Mika’s breath hiccups, and his fingers curl against Shu’s back, gently digging in. “Not originally,” he admits with a grin. “But ‘m not complainin’.” He nudges his nose against Shu’s throat. “Nn. Sure it’s okay? Even after you passed out a little?” 

Shu sniffs, letting his head flop back onto the pillow, unwilling to give Mika the satisfaction of seeing his expression. “If I limited my activities on days when I’d passed out, I’d never get to do anything. Ah, I suppose that’s less true these days, but...

His hand tugs at the hem of Mika’s shirt, crumpled in the darkness under the covers. “Should I be asking if you’re all right? I don’t know how this medicine works.”

“…I haven’t had it for a few weeks now,” Mika wryly says, letting his forehead knock briefly against Shu’s shoulder. “So. Y’know. At least it doesn’t mess up stuff like this, yeah?”

Or maybe that’s _why_  he’s been so bold and needy and unapologetic about it, but whatever the case, he’s not going to complain for now. He wriggles himself against Shu, planting a warm, open-mouthed kiss to his throat that quickly turns into a careful, but no less eager suck. “Sorry I was dumb earlier,” he murmurs. “I can try and make up for it, though…”

“A-at least you’re aware of the problems you cause me,” Shu groans, the familiar words lacking their usual sting when his legs stretch out, toes curling at the sensation of Mika’s lips and teeth against his neck. “I’ll expect more than this to make up for it, though! Don’t think you’ll get off with j-just a kiss...”

His fingers trail down Mika’s back, down to cup and grab at the firm muscle of his ass, harder now than it had been before their dance training (though he’d only looked, never squeezed like this). 

Mika sucks in a sharper breath, and bites again, not _quite_  as carefully this time. He doesn’t regret it, not one bit, not when Shu’s pulse thuds faster underneath his teeth and tongue, and the thrill of being able to leave even a tiny mark on Shu’s neck makes him shudder. 

Underneath the blankets, his breath puffs out hot and fast, and Mika can already feel himself start to flush, shifting restlessly against Shu. “I dunno, Oshi-san,” Mika mutters, unable to keep from being a smartass, just for a moment, and he nuzzles up closer to Shu’s ear, sucking on the skin there. “I think I could get off just on kissin’ you, if you let me.”

“W-was that word play? When you’re kissing my neck? How dare you!” Shu yelps at the rasp of teeth, but his hips snap up involuntarily, rubbing against Mika’s thigh. The idea of doing it again, of having Mika inside him again, is enough to make his skin prickle and his belly heat, cock hard in anticipation. He reaches down, rucking up his nightshirt, grabbing at Mika’s hand and thrusting it downward. “You’re sorry for worrying me, aren’t you? Prove it, God, make me feel good already.”

Mika’s hand slides down eagerly, swallowing hard when his fingers curl around Shu’s cock immediately and feel how hard and hot it is already in his hold. He huffs out a breath against Shu’s neck, nipping again, hoping to make Shu make that (surprisingly!) cute sound again when he bites and sucks on the side of his neck. “Mm, mm, however y’want,” Mika breathes. “Y’want my mouth? Or d’you…d’you want me to—like the last time—“ He almost whimpers, just _thinking_  about it. 

_I can’t believe you’d say something like that_ , Shu almost protests, but Mika is brave, braver than he is--but no, he can’t let Mika take all of the glory, can he? No, he’s supposed to be the Mentor--or why should he deserve to be called _Oshi-san_? It isn’t as if he has a problem saying the words in other situations, so...

Shu rolls them over, straddling Mika’s hips, the blankets falling down around his waist. Heart thudding under his skin, he tugs up his nightshirt, grinding down against Mika’s hardening cock through the school uniform trousers. He sucks in a breath, summons his courage, and looks straight into Mika’s lovely mismatched eyes. _No stuttering. I can do this. I can be...hmph, of course I can be sexy._ He’s not sure if he believes himself, but perhaps he just needs to fake it until he makes it. “Fuck me,” he orders, voice only quavering slightly. Hopefully his cheeks aren’t too flushed to give the words some impact.

Mika stares up at him, breath ragged in his chest, and doesn’t think so much as he just… _reacts._  

He’s probably _too_  grabby when he lurches up, snatching Shu close by the arm to kiss him hard. He misses in the dark, just a little, maybe too much teeth in his eagerness, but that doesn’t stop him from shoving a hand down at the same time to unbutton his pants, squirming underneath Shu’s weight to shove them and his underwear down. “Not fair,” he groans against Shu’s mouth, biting back a whine when he finally gets his cock free, and the way it feels to let it slide up against the cleft of Shu’s ass makes his eyes flutter and glaze. “N…not fair, Shu, when you say stuff like that—“

_Oh thank god, he liked it._ The relief after trying that hard to get over that hurdle makes Shu feel giddy, or maybe that’s the way Mika is rubbing against him, promising more of that thick, invasive feeling he’d been sure he would kill him last time and hasn’t stopped craving since. 

The power goes to his head, and he grinds down harder, rubbing the cleft of his ass against Mika’s cock, goading now, loving the way Mika is once more dancing to his tune, more honestly in his emotions than ever before. “You like hearing that, Mika?” he asks, eyes glittering in the darkness. “You want me to say dirty things? You want me to ask you for your lovely cock? Should I ask nicely for you to give it to me, Mika?”

Mika gulps, lightheaded and fumbling in his overeagerness when he can’t decide if he should be grabbing at Shu wherever he can reach, or snatching up the lotion next to the bed. The latter is what he settles on, because that means he might be inside _sooner_. “If you ask real pretty, I’m not gonna be able to stop, ever,” he admits, his fingers shaking as he reaches his hand down, curling it around his cock to slick it with lotion—and he can’t _help_  but guide the head of his cock to Shu’s hole, mouth parting when it rubs and catches against it. “Y-you’re so hot, Shu…” 

Ah--no foreplay? Well, nervewracking as this is, Shu supposes this is his own fault for teasing. Now he’s getting what he’d requested, albeit a little faster than he’d anticipated. The thought of asking Mika to slow or stop, though, doesn’t even enter his mind. He rubs against the blunt head of Mika’s cock, intending to ask nicely, but his instinct gets the better of him, and he sinks down, mouth parting in a groan when that thick heat slides inside of him, stretching him on every slick inch. “F-fuck,” he whimpers, hands thumping against the bed, knees gone weak as he sinks down onto them. “It’s--ah, Mika, careful, it’s s-so big like this--”

Mika nods frantically, trying to remember to breathe when he’s suddenly sinking inside, and Shu is so tight around him that his vision blurs white. “T…trying to behave,” he says with a breathless little laugh, his fingers curling around the curve of Shu’s ass, squeezing, kneading, probably bruising in an attempt not to tug him down faster. “You feel _so_  good,” he mumbles, his mouth on Shu’s neck again, sucking hard on the thud of his pulse when he shoves in deeper with an eager little roll of his hips.

Part of Shu wants to sag down and give up, letting Mika take him however he likes. The idea is certainly attractive--but he’d done that last time, and Itsuki Shu is not a man accustomed to being taken care of. No, Mika is in his care, for better or worse, and the least he can do is this.

Then again, maybe it’s just that Mika feels so good in him, stinging hot and hard and far too thick with every push into his hole, and Shu rocks down hard, frantic little thrusts as he tries to find that perfect spot he’d loved last time. His hands come up to Mika’s chest, rubbing at his pectorals, thumbing over his nipples. “You feel good, yes? Yes, you like this?” The words tumble from his mouth without him meaning to let them, urgent pleas for validation he can’t bite back when he slams down hard. 

It’s a surprise how having his nipples touched goes straight to his cock, and Mika’s hands tighten their grasp, pulling down a touch more roughly than he’d meant to when his cock pulses and _throbs_. “Sorry,” he pants into Shu’s neck, mouthing a wet kiss there apologetically. “Sorry. Y-yeah. You’re perfect.” Mindlessly, Mika shifts, biting his own lip when he can feel how their skin sticks and slides against one another, how there’s just no more space between them and every grind up into Shu’s body feels torturously sweet. 

Arousal flares in Shu’s belly when Mika thrusts hard into him--not because of any particular accuracy or skill of the thrust, but something about the speed makes it delicious. His eyelashes flutter, his breath comes more quickly, and he raises up on his knees again, slamming down with a soft cry. Again--and again he whines, again he nearly screams, again their skin slaps together again, again, again. 

“P-please, Mika,” he begs, without knowing what he wants, what he needs, beyond-- “H-harder, harder, help me--” Because at this point, all Shu can think of is how to get _more_ of that feeling, his own hard cock bouncing between them, slapping against his stomach with every hard grind down.

It’s almost impossible to get the leverage he needs like this, and Mika _needs_  to be able to hear those noises that Shu makes again. With a breathless grunt of effort, Mika rolls them, shoving a hand down onto Shu’s shoulder before he can protest, and shoving his cock in deeper not soon after. 

Shu’s legs are long, but surprisingly not unwieldy when they’re draped around him, and Mika scoots up closer onto his knees, fitting between Shu’s thighs like he’s made to be there when he grinds up in deeper, and harder, and _hopefully_  the way that Shu’s begging for, especially when his hands are cupping and squeezing the perfect curve of his ass to pull him into every thrust. _Good?_  he wants to ask, just to make _sure_ , but even that question won’t come when he fastens his mouth to Shu’s neck again and can’t stop.

The burst of pain from his neck combined with the relentless driving into his body wrings out the most _useless_ sounds from Shu’s mouth. Some of them are high and weak, others low and hungry, and finally he just gives up, splaying out on the bed and letting Mika fuck him hard. A thin string of drool trails down from his lips, eyes rolling back into his head as he reaches down to palm his own cock.

He barely has the chance to touch it before he spills, writhing on Mika’s cock, back arched into a tight bow as he trembles, a ragged groan coming from his mouth. Mika’s name might be in there, but maybe it’s just nonsense, an overwhelmed shriek as he collapses back. He stares up at Mika, dazed and delirious with pleasure, one hand fluttering up to grip at his shirt. “K-keep going,” he groans. “Until you--in me, Mika, fill me up...”

Hearing something like _that_  from _Shu_ —Mika’s breath hiccups hard, and he _knows_  he’s too rough when he grinds in now, feeling the way Shu’s body twinges and twitches around him, feeling every lingering spasm from his orgasm and the way his body clutches and clings to him. Too bad he can’t stop, not when Shu asks him to do things like that.

Mika’s panting is heavy and hard into the crook of Shu’s shoulder where his mouth fastens next, then back to his neck, then to his mouth, sticky, wet kisses stifling the breaking of his own voice when he finally, _finally_  comes, shoved in deep and spilling messy and slick inside. 

Every single muscle in his body trembles, suddenly weak and overstimulated, and Mika bonelessly sags down, flopping on top of Shu in a sweaty, spent heap. “God,” he groans, his chest heaving. “’s not fair—how sexy y’sound…when y…y’talk like that…”

The last time they’d done this, Shu had been insensible afterwards, sobbing into Mika’s hair. This time, he feels deliciously boneless and no small amount smug. “I knew you’d like that. Ah, your desires are simple, aren’t they? Well, I suppose I don’t hate indulging you.” 

He nuzzles into Mika’s hair, tracing a hand up and down that sweaty, slender back. “If you keep doing so well at this, I’ll take every chance to tease you. I like the result.”

Mika doesn’t lift his head, but he does growl, low and rumbling. “If y’do that too much,” he lowly warns, “’s gonna be interestin’ to see who makes it to practice, _Oshi-san_.” 

Shu huffs, hopefully hiding the way his body pulses to life slightly just at those words. This almost feels like they were just performing again, like the audience’s energy is pulsing through them yet again. He reaches down, tugging the blanket up over Mika’s shoulders, and kisses his temple. “If you fall asleep in those clothes, they’ll wrinkle, and I won’t wash or iron them.” He probably will.

“Don’t wanna pull out yet,” Mika mumbles in complaint, nuzzling his face into Shu’s neck. He _really_  doesn’t mind how they’re already sticking together, or how sweaty and gross he’s going to feel when he wakes up in the morning. “Shuuu…what if I wake up and wanna do it again…” If he’s going to get scolded and rolled out of bed, it’s going to be over something like this, but that’s a risk he’s willing to take.

Shu’s face flushes bright red, and he grabs an embroidered pillow, tugging it over his face and leaving it there. “Then--you know where it goes, failure! I shouldn’t have to tell you what to do!” He’s going to die of embarrassment, or of Mika fucking him through sleep. “Take responsibility if you get me addicted to it!”

That’s not a rejection, that’s an _encouragement_ , and a really, really big one at that. “I’ll always take responsibility,” Mika happily sighs, planting a kiss on the line of Shu’s jaw, the only part of his face he can get to. “Let’s have a good sleep, yeah?” 

Shu shoves the pillow gently against Mika’s face, not letting go of it. “You’re the worst,” he says, muffled into the antique linen. “Stupid, beautiful Mika. Good _night_!”


End file.
